Rocks, Paper, Song? Rene, this is getting out of control...

Okay, so yes, I wrote another song today, in Creative Writing, and yes, I love it. It's not as good as my other two, but I still like it. I'll post that and to deter you from just songs that I've written I'm going to post a piece of writing that I've yet to think of.

Song:

Waltz Of The Two Moons

Call it cheating, call it wasting
Time better suited for
What else than answering life's little questions
With a little bit of dancing in the mix.

Backyards to ballrooms
In dresses, skirts, and designer jeans.
In the wake of our mistakes
We'll build a history.

Call it rhythm, call it soul;
Reactions to the music makes our blood boil.
I'd give whatever I have left for
Warmth in the cold, her hands to hold as we dance in

Backyards to ballrooms
In dresses, skirts, and designer jeans.
In the wake of our mistakes
We'll build a history.

Dance breakdown, synth-tastic

Backyards to ballrooms
In dresses, skirts, and designer jeans.
In the wake of our mistakes
We'll build a history.
___________________________________________________________________

Okay, so now the other half of the post... Let's wing it, shall we?

A hammock, two lawn chairs, and a picnic table were messily strewn across the lawn, gathering the warmth of the fire on a cold night in April. On them sat six friends, myself included, with an acoustic guitar, throwing songs together on a whim.

"Hey J-dub, you got my lighter?"

"Yea, hold on..."

Jesse scrambled through his pockets, barely large enough to even hold a lighter, nevermind the cigarettes accompanying, and pulled out a pack of Malboro Reds and a cheap, plastic lighter.

"Here you go, George."

"Thanks man."

Between the six of them, only two didn't smoke, and they were the two best friends. They didn't need it to look cool, they were in a band. That was their excuse anyway.

"Carlos, play me a 'lil somethin' somethin', I have an idea," I said, trying to get another song started so that everyone could sing along. It was already 11:30, but the group sang as loud as they could whenever something repeated.

"When you said these cigarettes taste like new beginnings
I said 'Sorry, I don't smoke, and I like things how they are.'
But light me up a flame to burn, raging through the night
And I'll show you why I feel the way I do..."

After I had laid down the vocals to follow, everyone chimed in over and over with the verse. Quickly it became a theme of the night, being hummed or sung even when the guitar was lying on the picnic table.

"Aww, damnit. We're out of cigarettes," noted Emma, Jane's little sister, who'd gone to sleep some hours before. It was 1 in the morning, and everyone was on the verge of falling asleep themselves. Emma's outburst had shaken everyone back to life, and all of a sudden, sleep was not the goal, finding cigarettes became the newest necessity.

Carlos and I watched as George, Jesse, and Emma walked around George's house trying to find cigarettes. My car was the only means of transportation, and being a non-smoker, I'd refused to make a pick up.

It was at this moment that I realized that he could care less what happened with the cigarette situation. These were his friends, and he was watching them worry about a 3 inch long paper wrapped kiss of emphysema.

Truth.

Haha, I had no idea how to end it.